Motörhead + Sepultura
Glasgow Barrowlands, 9th November 2004
Ah yes, it's that time of year again. Hallowe'en has scarcely laid its ghouls and ghosts to rest, the acrid smoke of fireworks still lingers in the air and Christmas lights are already twinkling in every shop window. Isn't it about time Motörhead toured again?
Reliable as ever, the trusty crusty threepiece return to Glasgow for another entertaining evening of beer steeped, smoke ravaged, drug addled rock'n'roll. And this time they've got Brazilian metalheads Sepultura in tow.
Can't say I was overly excited at the prospect of spending half the evening in the company of these Grade A dull thrash metal noisemeisters, but when I saw they’ve replaced ol' curly wiggers Max Cavalcara with a statuesque new singer, well, I was prepared to be persuaded. Towering above the rest of the band, with dreadlocks down to his well-toned arse and gleaming muscles flexed, he looks like a renegade member of the Uruk-Hai. Come to think of it, Sepultura would probably be a good band of choice for a pack of aurally challenged Orcs… Sorry guys, but nothing will convince me that this particular brand of heads down, monotonous chugging riffs, assault and battery of primal drumbeats and caveman growling and groaning is really music. So painfully testosterone fuelled it made your ovaries ache, their set was really not for me. Next, please…
Next of course, being the mighty Motörhead. Despite playing a set that was aimed fairly and squarely at the Motörheadbanging connoisseurs, they still managed to churn out enough old standards to keep a 'greatest hits' fan like me smiling broadly. 'No Class', 'Ironfist' and (my favourite) 'Killed by Death' all went down an absolute treat, in between the B-sides and (eek!) new material. But of course, with Motörhead there is no eek! about it: like a cool version of Status Quo, their songs all sound exactly the same, from the floor shaking basslines and instantly recognisable metal riffs to the unmistakeable Marlboro sponsored growl of Mr Lemmy Kilminster.
Easily falling into the 'it's a miracle he's still alive' category, where he sits comfortably swapping tales of destruction with fellow legends Ozzy Osbourne and all of Mötley Crüe and Aerosmith, Motörhead frontman Lemmy is a truly iconic figure: with his bushy Hussar’s sidechops, elevated mic stand and low slung skinny trousers, he's a legend in his own happy hour, and deservedly so.
So, yes, their new material is virtually indistinguishable from songs that were penned almost thirty years old, but that's one of things you’ve gotta love about this band: like a battered old leather jacket you’ve had since you were a teenager, Motörhead will always fit and always be effortlessly, unmistakeably cool.
But just in case you're starting to think they may be a bit of a one trick pony, they come back for an encore with an acoustic blues number that showcases Lemmy's husky growl to perfection. And just in case you’re starting to think they may not be so predictable after all, they rip into a blistering version of 'Ace of Spades'. That's the way I like it, baby – let's just hope Motörhead really do live forever.
Metalway Festival, 12th-14th August 2005
